The Spy's Love Song by Kim Fielding

Author:Kim Fielding [Fielding, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64080-502-6
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2018-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

SLEEPING on the ground was a lot easier on a ten-year-old body than one in its late thirties. Jaxon woke up sore and disoriented, with pine needles in his hair and, most likely, bugs in his clothes. He’d been missing his guitar, but now he missed his toothbrush even more.

Reid sat next to him, watching.

“What?” Jaxon demanded as he sat up and stretched.

“You sing in your sleep.”

“I do not!”

“You do. Just a few words here and there. Sometimes you hum.”

That was too weird to contemplate. Jaxon looked around and saw nothing but the sun’s morning rays sneaking through the branches, creating designs on the ground. “I guess we’re lucky the weather’s good.”

Still seated, Reid looked at him gravely. “You can still go back. Tell them you were scared and ran after me, and I kidnapped you.”

Jaxon snorted his dismissal of the idea. “Does the State Department know we’re missing?”

“I don’t know. Mariya wasn’t our only asset, but getting information out of the country is dangerous and difficult.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. They can’t get anyone in here to extract me. Us.”

“So we go to the Black Cat….”

“And hope like hell your fans are dedicated enough to hide us while I find a way out.”

Thinking of some of the things people had sent him over the years, Jaxon grinned. Engagement rings. Lots and lots of fan art. Piles of underwear. And thousands of letters and emails expressing undying devotion. Buzz kept the more disturbing stuff away from him, but Jaxon still had a decent idea of how deep some people’s adoration could go.

Comforted as he was by his supportive fans, another notion unsettled him. “If those people help us, they could get in deep trouble. Or dead.” He shuddered as he remembered Albina’s dying gasps.

“Yes,” Reid said.

Yet if Jaxon and Reid didn’t ask for help, their prospects were dim. Not to mention the fact that Talmirov’s corruption would continue unchecked, and Russia would have help invading places, and…. Shit. Musicians rarely had to make life-and-death decisions.

“Let’s go find that cat,” Jaxon said.

Reid stood and brushed debris from his clothes. Even after sleeping on the ground, he looked tidy. Maybe the State Department issued special dirt- and wrinkle-proof clothing to its operatives.

“You stay here,” he said.

“No! I’m coming—”

“Do you really think it’s such a great idea for you to walk the streets of Starograd? People will recognize you.”

Oh. Yeah. If Jaxon couldn’t manage anonymity while jogging through the wonderful diversity of San Francisco, he probably couldn’t pull it off while wandering here. “Can you blend in with the locals?”

“Better than you. Stay here. I’ll find out where Cherna Koshka is and come back, and we’ll both go there tonight.”

The plan made sense, but that didn’t mean Jaxon was happy about it. “What am I supposed to do here?”

“Nothing. Lay low. You should be able to hear if anyone approaches, in which case head in the other direction and hide. The woods are surprisingly thick up here. Just don’t get lost—I need to find you when I return.

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